The greatest Calamity
by Boxtop The Goofer
Summary: Etheria stands as a shining beacon to the rest of the world. A human kingdom basking in the light of technological and magical enlightenment. However, dark vermin are uniting under strange, powerful forces deep in the southern dead lands. Growing bolder and more dangerous with every new creature that rallies there. A royal extermination force is levied and led by Legendary heroes.
1. Chapter 1

Legends are not born on the field of battle, but drawn to it. Guided by the hand of fate to a single moment in time.

\- senior scribe Mael Wishrune, 3 months after the first great calamity.

A lone brown wood hare hopped sparingly through the dense shrubbery of the forest floor. Wary, but complacent and unmindful of it's surroundings. Every so often she would hop to another nearby bush speckled with ripe berries still untouched by those who share this bountiful forest with her. A veritable feast for the tiny creature, and so close to her safe burrow. So much so the sent of it lingered in the air. The promise of a warm safe burrow, and the temptations of the wild berries dulled her senses and clouded her judgment. But the hare was at peace, she knew these bushes, these trees. Every pebble and fallen nut on the ground. She knew it all, and knew no harm would come to her.

The hare hopped again to another section of the bush, where the berries were darker and radiated a sweeter scent. She lifted herself on her hind legs to reach them, snapping 1, 2 , 3 berry clusters up before chewing them, letting the flavor burst in her mouth. Pleasure filled her to the core as she swallowed, satiating that all consuming hunger. She lowered herself, lethargic after such a hardy meal. She put her nose back to the ground, sniffing out the familiar scent of her home so that she could rest.

But it was not to be.

A powerful odor wafted into her nostrils. An alien scent that her body knew but her mind did not. It turned her happy feelings into a whirlpool of fear that thrashed around inside her belly and made her want to run as fast as she could. Her ears perked, her skin bristled, her pupils dilated, her back legs tensed and her heart rate skyrocketed. Her feeble senses reached out to the world around her. what she saw, what she felt, and what she heard. And it all told her of one thing.

Death

The energy in her tensed legs released all at once. Shooting her forward so fast she immediately lost her footing on the loose worm toiled soil. Kicking earth and root into the air in a mad dash from something she knew she had no time to actually see.

A shadow descended, she hadn't run fast enough.

Massive clawed paws slammed on her outstretched back, crushing her midsection into the dirt, snapping something that made her legs go completly numb.

The hare grasped at the dirt with her front paws. Desperately trying to gain distance from the massive panting creature that was causing her so much pain. She screamed, screamed for her brothers and sisters, to her mother and father. To anything that could save her, but her only answer was for the world to go dark as her entire head was shoved into the mouth of the creature. Her last thought was the feeling of it's sharp teeth closing around her neck.

The wolf snapped it's jaws close around the thin weak neck of the food, lifting it's body and swinging it left and right until it ceased it's struggle. Then he bit down, crunching it's fragile skull and letting the flavor burst in it's mouth. The wolf threw it's head back, greedily stuffing the rest of the food creature into his gullet. Grinding it as much as he could to ease it's passing. it's blood was sweet, it's entrails covered in more fat then muscle. It was good, the wolf decided.

The lone wolf swallowed the last bits of the delicious meal, Licking the blood from it's chops. It would need more before it returned to it's territory, it had strayed farther then ever this day, and the hunger was still present. The wolf looked towards the sky, the light paling, growing dull. His search for a mate would have to be continued once hed had his fill and rested, he must be ready to claim what he knew was his, and for that he would need his strength. He still smelled the scent of the pack he knew had come this way. If he was lucky, he could steal away one of the more insquisitive females. If not, there would be blood.

The wolf yawned, and then began his trek homeward. Perhaps another of the small food creatures would be found on the way. One or two more should keep the hunger at bay for another day.

The wolf walked only a few short steps before he suddenly callapsed face first into the ground, falling to his side. A shock ran up his spine in the worste of ways.

Confusion, fear, and anger flooded his mind. He tried to lift himself back up but he couldn't feel his back paws anymore. A numbness had overtaken his lowerbody all the way to his chest. The wolf growled, not that he could see anything to growl at. He did so to disuade any who might attempt to use his momentary lapse to attack him. But even as he thought this the wolf did not understand why he couldn't walk, he had felt nothing, heard nothing, seen nothing.

Suddenly, a disturbance behind him caught his attention.

The wolf swung its head until he could see in the direction the sound had come from. And what he saw made the fear he felt double and the anger triple to compensate. It was taller then him. Two legged, and holding strange objects he did not understand. What he did know, was that this non food creature had come for him. And that he would never let it finish what it had obviously started.

He snapped and snarled, his maw dripping with spittle as he tried to intimidate the creature into leaving. To his surprise, it did. He just didn't know how. It simply vanished before him.

A sharp otherworldly pain invaded his chest from just under his front left paw.

What was happening to him? where was the enemy? he did not know, and never would.

The numbness spread further up his body as a warm liquid started spilling from his chest. The world started spinning and his stregnth was leaving him rapidly. Coldness was his final thought. Then, nothing.

The air shimmed slightly over the dead wolf, the light bending in unnatural ways. Where there was nothing, now stood a young blond girl with sharp pointed ears.

This girl, this Elf, removed the thin short blade from the wolf's still heart. The noises it made as she withdrew it from the wolf's insides no longer bothering her, as it once had in the past. The elf cleaned the blade on the wolfs pelt, just as she had been taught. Ridding as much of it's scent as she could before holstering it on her hip.

"A decent kill, Gwendolyn."

The young elf girl, Gwendolyn, raised herself and turned to face the fair toned and sultry voice that she knew better then her own.

"Mother."

She replied to the air in front of her. To any onlookers, she would have seemed a tad bit mad, talking to no one like that. But in an instant, with no dicernable distortions, her mother simply appeared. There was no delay or disturbance as her mother released the spell. Such was the skill in which she weilded the ancient magik of her people.

Now before her stood the legendary ranger, a warrior of bow and guile of the utmost magnitude. Her hair, what was shown that is, was golden, her features fair and soft. Her eyes were a sparkling emerald beneath the simple green hood. Her hunting attire plain and augmented for the environment. Shrubbery and leafy vines covered her arm and leg wraps, as well as her hood and torso. On her hip was a thin pointed "Mercy" blade just like her's. strapped to her back was a tanglewood bow, made from the flesh of trees only found in her people's ancestral homeland.

It was an image she had at one time aspired to.

The elfling watched her older counterpart remove a strung cloth sack from her back that the elfling had missed on her original appraisal. Her mother tossed it to her, and the elfling caught it in both arms.

"This day marks your last hunting within the shadow of our home, little sun."

The elfling stared inquisitively at her mother, and then to the sack in her hands. She pulled loose the opening, and peeked inside. A moment passed, before the elfling smiled broadly at what she saw.

"You will need these tools to overcome the challenges ahead. A Simple wolf is no real threat. You require a more demanding foe, one that can actually think."

The elfling reached inside, her arm disheartening farther in then the bag's size should allow. She retrieved a simple magelok hand cannon, and held it close for inspection. She swallowed hard, and a shiver ran down her spine as she drank it's craftsmanship and imperial sanctioned enchantments. She put it back carefully and withdrew another gift. A smoothed and polished palm sized stone of slate grey. As she held it in her hand it grew warm, and green runes woven into an intricate spell circle revealed themselves on it's surface. These were runes the elfling knew, her mother had taught her to understand the mage speak. To use it for her own ends. These runes were a prepared spell, a trap on demand. The elfling's excitement grew, and though she did her best to hide it, it showed.

The Elfling's mood grew somber suddenly, the words her mother spoke digesting. Gwendolyn secured the summoning stone back into the enchanted bag. Gone was the glowing smile of an innocent child, replaced by the hard calculating gaze of a pure blood elf huntress.

She looked to her mother.

"Is it time now mother? Can i...can i hunt the bad ones now?" The elf squeezed the bag just a little tighter in her fist as she spoke the words.

The hooded ranger's lips curled slightly at the ends into a coy smile. Proud and amused at her daughter's eagerness, the ranger drew closer to her daughter.

"Not yet, little sun. You have many trophies to claim before you can mount the head of a traitorous dark spawn."

The elfling bit the inside of her lip. It was a distant hope to suggest she had been ready, and her face grew red as she reflected on her own words.

The ranger's hand met the top of her daughter's head, caressing and comforting her little sun in her adorable moment of frustration. The elfling bristled at her mother's touch, relishing the intimacy.

"never let the flame die little sun. Tend it, control it, let it be a tool just like any other. When the time is right, it will burn away all your enemies in blinding light." The Elfing glowed at her mother's encouraging words.

"So do not fret, i promise to bring you closer to that goal with your next task." The ranger withdrew her hand and removed a small scroll hidden in the folds of cloth on her chest, a golden seal shining brightly. She held it out for her daughter to see.

"King Edmund has given us permission to use the underbelly of one his cities as a new hunting ground. It is time for you to understand the true value of life Gwendolyn. These new targets will not be dark vermin... but they will be vermin." The smile that came across her mother's face was one the elfling used to fear, despise even. But now she understood... she understood why her mother smiled so pleasantly when she spoke of such things. Gwendolyn looked into her mothers eyes and saw her own exited, smiling reflection staring back at her.

"i'm ready mother."

"I know you are, little sun."

The sun broke through a thick bank of clouds above, painting the sky in bright golden hues, and sending rays beaming through the canopy of the forest. The pair mutually decided to silently share a moment together. Enjoying their time together a little more. But all things come to an end.

The ranger quickly appraised the positions of the shadows and placement of the sun, and decided it was time to move on.

"Come then, lets go home. Dinner's only two hours away, and we'd better not be late again less our friends worry.

The elfling nodded in agreement.

"Before that however..." The ranger said as she eyed the wolf's body behind her daughter. She moved around her to kneel at it's body before pulling out a knife and defiling it's corpse. In a few swift, practiced motions, she'd collected the tail, toung, eyes, and canines. Folding them in waxed cloth before securing them in the bag she carried on her back.

"Mordin's always looking for fresh alchemical supplies for his work. Alright, lets carry on." She said standing back up, the two setting off at a jogging speed that would wind a trained human soldier.

The elfling stared at her mother's back as they ran. It was an image she had at one point aspired to, seen as somthing to become. But no more. Now she saw it as something to surpass, to overcome at all costs. She will not fail.

*Authors note*

The purpose of this story is to explore what little there is of Dungeon defender's lore. Covering the time before the first invasion, during, and after. Then the time during and after the second invasion which takes place during the 1st game and was rebooted sort of in the second. By the end of this i intend to treat the first game as it's own event, with the second game covering events that happen chronologically after the first game do to the obvious amounts of map and character redesign that shows both age and development. In essence i feel as if i could put a little more meat on it due to it being a game i really like and the lore being open ended as it is, and the attempts of the game developers to give the game a more grown up feel gave me inspiration.

the first 3 chapters will forcus on the introduction of all 4 of the main characters and their parents. The relationships between each of them, and in turn how they interact with the kingdom at large and it's growing industrialization. after that i'll cover the beggining middle and end of the first war in another 3 chapters, each around 5k-10k long. The ramifications of the war, the power and technology of the empire, and the skill set of the legendary heroes. I'll continue in the manor until i cover what can be covered. Then begin adding my own stuff.

Peace


	2. Chapter 2

. Twilight burned golden and violet hues into the skyscape over the castle. The evening's light almost depleted. The castle, a shining citadel of ivory spires and mage-crafted masonry, stood tall. It's shadow darkening the land for thousands of yards. Below it's southern gate, down a long wide road, was Brighthelm. The kingdoms capitol city. Bursting at the seems with wine peddlers, metal smiths, nobles and common folk alike as they commuted and traded enmasse. Some were bound for the castle, noses in the air and silk robes bellowing in the wind. Others were simple off duty officers and fresh recruits looking to relax with a cold pint in the company of their peers. After a hard days training south of the castle, it was almost routine to see them hopping from pub to pub, beautiful and exotic women in their arms. Most however were common folk of varying degrees of wealth. Finishing up their business. Closing down their shops or opening them depending on their wares. Though light was leaving rapidly no soul within would waste away the few dozen minutes left in idleness.

South of the castle's walls another road lay. Thinner then the one leading to Brighthelm, as this one led directly to a massive training ground used by Etheria's Royal Guard and Royal Army. The road branched into half a dozen massive dirt fields. Each covered in all sorts of training equipment. Some were peppered with simple straw dummies mounted on crosses of sturdy wood. Others were home to advanced endurance courses, where traps, pitfalls, and rotating blades were there to provide a very real danger. For the more advanced there were fields covered in mechanical opponents brought to life by crystals embedded in their chests. These golem were slow, cumbersome creatures normally. But should their difficulty need adjustment, even a seasoned armsman could find himself overwhelmed by the fury and speed they could deliver.

These fields were almost empty of their charges. A few recruits still traveled the long road home, exhausted from extended training. Followed loosely by the senior cadre that had demanded more of their time in the pit. The road was dark the way they came. the training fields finally succumbing to the shadows that creeped towards the castle. To the recruits, the light of the castle meant an end to their physical agony. A bastion of rest, and the promise of friends. To the two veteran cadre that shadowed the recruits a fair distance away, it was a more complicated thing.

As the recruits walked, they hardly talked amongst themselves, their bodies tired and muscles sore and aching. It took all they had to fight the fatigue and carry their helmets and training spears. The festivities in brighthelm were in no danger of ending, but they kept a steady pace none the less. The cadre on the other hand took their time. They were veterans. their bodies tested in the fires of battle and countless hours of physical and mental training. This road was one they'd walked a thousand times before. And if they had their way, a thousand times more.

Captain Talus Cole of the Royal Army's Lancer Vanguard ran his left hand through his short kept hair. His right arm cradling his angular, serpent patterned helm. His olive trimmed steel plate, jingling over the light chain mail covering his chest. The man was fair faced and young for his rank, barely 30 moons old. He sighed in contentment as a pleasant breeze cooled the sweat on his brow. He listened to his companion as they walked the trail

"Look at that lot, barely able to walk after the gauntlet today. 10 solid gold they don't make it to the golem yard before they drop out." Said Captain Moore Rothkin. An older veteran of the Royal Guard's frontier core. He wore a basic steel plate trimmed in the royal red of the king's own, and a dragon patterned helmet rested under his right arm. His hair was buzzed short and graying. his features hard and set.

"An easy 10 gold, you underestimate the new blood Moore." Retorted Talus as he accepted Moore's gamble.

"I know quitters when i see em, heh, you'll see."

Talus rolled his eyes at his friend's banter, when suddenly a very familiar chill ran down the length of his spine.

"felt it do did ya?" Asked Moore, stopping his walk and turning his head back towards the training field.

"Aye friend." Said talus as he stopped alongside moore. "That power is familiar. But it couldn't be, that man hasn't walked this road in decades."

The old soldier Moore grinned, the light of youth burning deep in his eyes.

"Only one way to find out." Moore didn't wait for confirmation from his comrade before beginning his trek back down the darkening road. He didn't need to, Talus had followed immediately. After all, it wasn't everyday one got to see the legendary hero of the kingdom in person.

* * *

The boy was panting, his body drenched in sweat. In his right hand was a dull iron blade. far too big for someone as young as him, yet he carried it easily. In his left hand he wielded a thick wooden shield banded in iron. It was nearly big enough to cover his entire body, as it was crafted to be used by fully grown trainees. Yet it never faltered or dropped despite his outward display of exertion. The boy's head was covered by a custom fitted iron helmet over leather padding. His body protected by another custom fitted iron plate and chainmail dress.

He'd have been hard to take seriously. No older then 12 and wielding oversized training gear. But as the accumulated dust of the dirt field began to settle. An unbelievable scene unfolded. Four destroyed forms of training golems surround the boy. Not defeated, or disabled, but utterly wrecked. As if they had collided into an unyielding force and shattered.

It would be hard to attribute it to the boy, for no child could bring such inhuman destruction to the earthen constructs. Each golem could tie down 10 fully grown adepts, and even if bested, it would barely be more then damaged. But on closer inspection, details began to make themselves clear. First was the shield the boy wielded. It was cracked, its edges jagged and ripped apart. The iron bands bulged outwards, some stuck out like spikes from force of many impacts. The second was the heavy training blade. It too suffered structural damage that seemed impossible to have accumulated in only one fight. the tip was gone, the length marred by many new jagged edges. And the hilts leather wrapping hung around the boys wrist, partially severed and undone. The pommel under the sword's hilt was gone.

Awe was all the two seasoned warriors could experience upon discovering this sight.

They stood on the hill far above the golem pit, often used by castle officials and nobles overseeing the training. As such things often became something of a spectacle. The night was lit by three large towers that lorded high over the pit from the edge of the surrounding forest, shining white mage light onto and around the field.

One of the three towers dulled it's illumination of the field, and it's massive crystal at the top grew brighter. Several mechanisms and shifting gears unfolded on the towers shaft. And the crystal's color became a deep green. The inside of the crystal bubbled like boiling water, and the image of a spell circle formed. Suddenly the tower discharged a brilliant beam into the pit, just a few dozen feet from the boy. Where it landed, the spell circle image in the crystal was projected.

Earth and stone were pulled from the ground surrounding the spell circle's projection. And in seconds five new golem were being constructed.

In response, the boy set himself into a stance, his shield in front, his sword held outward. It was madness.

Talus couldn't keep his jaw closed, his shock overwhelming his mind. He tensed, ready to leap down there and forcefully remove this suicidal child. But before he could bolt over the railing that he gripped hard enough to splinter the wood, captain Moore's hand slammed onto his shoulder and gripped tight.

He looked back, wondering why Moore would even begin to protest.

Moore removed his hand, and simply pointed across the pit.

Talus looked inquisitively at the hand, then where it led. When he finally saw what Moore saw, his heart skipped a beat and he felt slightly lightheaded.

Standing across from them on the adjacent hill overlooking the pit. Was none other then the captain of the King's guard Magnus zephyrheart. Hero of the old war, cleanser of darkspawn, the god's wrath made flesh. The legendary templar. And this force of nature was gazing back at talus with a look that did not promise mercy for interrupting whatever was happening here.

Talus removed himself from the railing and took several generous steps back, Moore following suit. His eyes never left the man as he did so. After he stopped. The Templar's features did a 180, and he smiled and waved at the two.

"Looked like ya nearly shat yerself there lad." Teased Moore. But Talus felt no shame.

"Hmph, if the clattering of your shaking plate were any clue i'd say you were a hypocrite"

"Hah!"

The tension eased, the two quickly resumed to their watching.

The golems the summoning tower had called were now fully constructed, fresh mana crystals condensed into their chests from the atmosphere. But they were waiting for something.

Talus still felt apprehensive, he knew there were warriors that could make short work of the training golems. That in itself was nothing special. But five to one for such a small child?

He looked back over to Magnus, who's attention was now solely on the boy. The giant of a man wore simple cloths and no armor, A shirt and pants of unkown material. His arms were crossed, and he watched the boy with a look that blended pride and tough love into one fatherly look. Talus immediately came to the only conclusion that made any sense.

"By the gods, his bloody son's down there Moore."

"Aye, thought that as well, wouldn't have believed it had the lad not slumped those big bastards."

"You think this is going too far? Those golem aren't inhibited, they will kill the child if he fails to defend himself."

"Aye i do, but i trust Magnus, you should too.'

Talus quickly considered his options. After a moment, he sighed. Looked like he was going to see something truly miraculous today.

Movement caught the pair's eyes, two objects had been thrown into the pit.

First was a another training blade, it landed blade first in the dirt halfway between the golem and the boy. Second was a new shield, that one leanded edge first half way between the blade and the boy exactly.

The reason for this became clear as the golem immediately activated and began their charge. Great humanoid mounds of earth shielded in thin plates of stone that acted like armor rushed into battle. Every step was less time for the boy to reach the blade and shield. A Race.

* * *

Arthur Zephyrheart wasted no time once his fathers gift hit the ground in front of him. A few moments of idle rest was all he needed. He bolted for the shield a moment before the golem began their charge. But before he reached it his current shield needed to be disposed of. Big as it was, it felt light in his arms, but it's size ruined any sense of balance for a decent throw. To compensate, he put his entire body into it. Sacrificing momentum, he turned his run into a slide as he locked his legs. His head tucked under arm, his entire body leaning left as he cocked back his arm like the hammer of a handcannon. When he released, his entire body shot to the right, the sheer force of the throw dispersing the dust in the air. The shield flew low to the ground, before snapping upwards at the apex of the flight and slamming home in the lead golem's mana crystal. The shield shattered on impact, and the golem staggered, losing it's footing. Suddenly cracks appeared in it's gem, and the golem began falling apart as it ran, pieces dropping off for each step it took.

Arthur had reached and equipped the shield just as the lead golem finally fell apart. Clearly faster then the golem could hope to match, he was well on his way to the sword. He repeated the process with his current broken blade as with the shield, this time without stopping. He sent it spinning wildly into the second golem, but this didn't strike the heart crystal, instead it tore deep into the earthen flesh of its leg joint. Built to respond to perceived damage just as a fleshborne would. The golem lost control of it's left leg and tumbled mid run. clogging the path of the others, it was trampled and destroyed by the dumb brutes.

Arthur reached the training sword and ripped it from the ground, legs pumping the entire time. The golem almost upon him, he met their charge head on in a furious clash.

The new lead golem charged into him, left arm twisted back like a spring. It shot it's arm down on Arthur in a wild haymaker aimed to kill. Arthur, in a display of martial prowess and speed, waited until the very last moment before twisting his body, the golem's arm passing just over his right shoulder. As it passed, arthur cocked back his shield arm and delivered a devastating shield bash right into the golem's left arm joint below the elbow. The sound was like a mason shattering stone with a rock hammer. The golem's arm exploded in earthen gore and stone, its lower arm forcefully separated and sent flying, while it's body was thrown backwards and off balance. Arthur seized on this quickly. His sword was of blur of steel as he ducked under the golem's right arm, three lightning fast slashes cut into the side of the construct. Another swing slashed under it's right armpit, severing it's tendons and turning it useless. He jumped into the air once it was unable to retaliate, and made a clean cut of it's neck from behind. He landed with a hard grunt.

The golem fell apart. But it wasn't over, the last two had caught up to the fight.

The boy was exhausted, his energy running low, but he would never disappoint his father. For his father believed he could win and that was more then enough for him.

Arthur yelled his challenge, a show of his own determination. As he did so a rush of energy filled his body. His roar became louder, more earnest as it filled him. His skin seemed to boil red, his fatigue washed away in a tide of power. He didn't know why it happened, but he knew it felt good.

The golem split, running to each side of Arthur before closing in fast, their fist raised. tactics that would have bested many other opponents. But they couldn't have accounted for the severe increase in threat.

Arthur didn't play their game, his left leg tensed and he shot to the right in a blur of speed. He passed under the golem's legs and ended up a full meter behind it, accidentally overshooting. It didn't matter, the golem couldn't react fast enough. Arthur stomped into the ground and sent himself flying directly into the golem's back plate, sword first. When he hit the golem immediately collapsed and exploded outward, and the boy blew through it with little loss in momentum, earth and rock flying with him. His sword had broken through the back armor and destroyed the crystal with sheer force.

He hit the ground legs first and bounced slightly before running with the momentum. his speed was so great that his balance was hindered, but he learned quick. His sword was shattered from the previous attack so he discarded it, he didn't need it anyway. The final golem repeated the mistakes of the other and charged head on. Arthur could feel his body straining under this newfound power, he had to finish it now.

The golem shot an arm outward in a burst of speed that the other's had lacked, but it was too late for it to adjust it's settings. Arthur slid under the attack and rammed his shield into it's heart with all the force he could manage. The golem exploded from the impact, its parts scattered in wild arcs.

Arthur stood, triumphant over his enemies. Slowly his shield fell from his grasp, landing with a thud on the ground. his vision grew blurry, the field shifting and growing unfocused. Then a bubble shot up from his lower back and hit his brain in a wave of nausea. He saw the sky for a moment, and then the face of his father, smiling. proud. then oblivion.

* * *

Just like his father.

Moore could only think this as he watched the hero's son battle. And it was a battle. The power he saw unfold was just like the red wrath that Magnus was so famous for. It seems the boy inherited his fathers favor with the gods. That monstrous strength was a sight to behold. He felt like a young lad all over again. After the battle ended, and his father had descended into the pit to catch the boy before he fell. His companion gave a long shaky sigh.

"i suddenly feel a lot older then i am." remarked Talus, as they stood there together, long after the Templar and his son had left.

Moore snorted

"i dont wanna hear that gib from you pretty boy."

"i'm serious, it seems like it was so long ago that i watched that man's back as he lead us through the dark tide at Havenfall. Soon his son will stand beside him, and with him a new generation of heroes." Talus looked towards the night sky, the mage towers dulling into nothingness, and the stars revealing themselves.

"Didn't take you for a poet lad."

Now it was Talus' time to snort.

The too friends stood there, staring at the stars, thinking of what the future held.

* * *

Arthur came too, he felt comfortable, and well rested. His body should be aching, but it didn't. His arms should be heavy and sore, but with a few quick movements under the cushy blankets, he disproved that.

His eyes had been closed in his idle musing, but he didn't need to see to know his father was beside him. Before any other sensations took hold, his father's imense protective presence was felt. He grinned like a noble boy in the winter solstice.

"So, i passed?"

He could feel his Father's warm smile radiate towards him.

"Full commendations. Well done, son."

* * *

Authors note:

I wanted to write more for this chaptor, but the first of this month saw me put into the hospital after an almost life ending fall. my left hand is useless and my lower back has a hole in it. long story short im pretty fugged right now. But i'll update ASAP as the next chapter will introduce the mage and monk characters and possibly begin the main story arc and those are my favorite. Rest assured this will be finished.

In other news, World breaker hulk/ warhammer40k cross over coming soon. so if ur into that keep posted.

peace.


	3. Chapter 3

His smile was genuine, true. His father's words brought a deep pride that none could take away from him.

His eyes still closed, he reflected on these past months spent with his father. Traveling the lands, fighting great beasts and criminals alike. His body had grown strong. Stronger than the soldiers he admired. Stronger than his friends. This was not hubris, but truth earned through grueling training. His father was merciless and he was all the more for it.

His fist closed under the sheets, his arms flexing. Feeling the raw power his body was capable of now. His mind glossed over the details of the time spent in the golem yard. The single-minded determination to win he felt then. His own will made manifest through his power. A sudden thought struck him at that moment, consuming his mind with its perplexing nature.

He lifted his left arm from under the pure white sheets. his eyes opening to stare at his hand and his arm. During the fight, he swore he saw a red aura consume him. His entire body had been swallowed by what he felt was his will to win. Was it a hallucination? some sort of battle fever? His brows furrowed slightly in thought as the presence of his father dulled in his confusion.

His father saw this and smiled warmly, knowingly. The time for secrets was long passed.

"It was no illusion boy."

Arthur was dragged out of his thoughts by his fathers words, and he looked to him.

What you felt then was the power I've been trying to bring out of you all these months. Although you achieved it far earlier then I did." (The praise was not unnoticed, but Arthur held his tongue eagerly awaiting more details.)

"Those I fought with called it the Red Wrath, the order I serve calls it a blessing of the gods. None of them know it's true origins, for it lies deep in our very blood. Mordin and I have worked to uncover the secrets of this power over the years. His work now unhindered by the old fogeys of the order. It is lineage from the old kingdoms of man. A berserk fury that once protected mankind from the darkness that surrounds it. Lost overtime to endless war. An instinct dormant in most, but not in us."

Arthur gulped in un-subtle anxiousness, and looked at his hand once more, he opened and closed it as the words digested in his mind. And then a cool determination came over him. One filled with gratitude for the power he wielded, the power to defeat his enemies, and protect his friends. His father could sense it, and if possible, grew even prouder.

"This power comes at a cost, but in time your body will adjust, just as m-"

A massive gurgle erupted from under the sheets, interrupting the somewhat serious tone of the conversation at hand. Arthur grew stiff with embarrassment, his eyes looking passed his hand to the ceiling above. Silently wishing his belly to quiet down, he failed spectacularly.

Magnus Erupted into genuine laughter, deep and hearty.

"By the gods! I must be getting old for a DireWulf has snuck under the sheets while i wasn't looking BAHHAHA!"

It was a terrible joke, but all the more for it. Arthur giggled, and then laughed until his face turned red right alongside Magnus. Moments passed before the two regained composure.

"Aye, the kitchen staff is in for it this time. You've experienced hunger greater than most, but nothing like the famine of a good old fashion Rage! Training is well and all but what really makes the man is the meat on his table! Worry not, the feast hall is serving up soon and it's going to be grand from the smell of it. The very walls betray it!"

Magnus slapped his knees in humor before lifting himself from the bedside chair and standing to his full impressive height.

"See to it that you're cleaned and dressed boy. The healers left a good set of clothes for you in the corner there, And the maidens scrubbed some of that dirt off you, but don't neglect appearances. I'll be waiting for you in the feast hall once you're ready."

Arthur nearly started drooling at the thought of food. He was truly hungry, ravenous even. He could barely contain himself from ripping off the sheets and heading straight to the kitchens to alleviate the cooks of their burden. Instead, he opted for the washroom connected to his own. The warm silver mage light activated at his presence.

Magnus chuckled at the eagerness, it was just like him at that age. He headed for the door to leave his son to his business.

Arthur looked at the somewhat sorry reflection in the mirror, the blood was gone...mostly. But he'd still need a good scrubbing. His black hair was matted to his face with sweat and oils and well, he needed a haircut. It was passed his chin at this point. He lamented somewhat as this would take a bit more time then he'd liked. Suddenly he heard his father call from the halfway open hall door of the other room.

"Ah and do hurry it up, wouldn't want to keep your friends waiting now would you?" The door closed after that.

Arthur froze, the lump of soap in his hand gaining a new palm shape from how hard he was squeezing it. He'd forgotten completely. All these months away from the castle he hadn't seen or heard from any of them. The training they'd gone through, the stories to share! His friends!

The following minutes were a battle of pure will as he fought to not scrub himself raw in his haste. He was back at last, and he couldn't wait.

* * *

AN

Really short, but i'm back and the next chapter is going to be really long. Wanted something out there in the meantime.


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